I’m a YA Dark Fantasy author, speculative fiction editor in-training, and succulent lover with a figurative and literal brown thumb. In my free time (what is that?) you can find me on Elder Scrolls, or chasing my kids around... Most likely that. I'm currently pursuing my BA in Creative Writing from SNHU.
I’m married to my best friend and real life Milo Thatch who specializes in ancient civilization and medieval war history; we have two delightful, chaotic-neutral toddlers who are our entire world.
Below you’ll find links to the Disenchanted Series and updates, whenever I remember—usually belatedly. Currently (October 2020) I am working on the sequel to Lilac and Garin's haphazard forest journey.
If you have any inquiries regarding the world of Disenchanted or my editing services and affiliation, please feel free to use the contact form at the bottom of my page and I will be happy to write you back. Thank you for sharing your space and energy with me. Enjoy ⚔️✨
Profs & Pints Online: The Women of King Arthur Legends seminar (Sara Cleto and Brittany Warman)
Disenchanted (Disenchanted Series, #1)
I’ve been working on this story for quite some time now, and can’t wait for you to read it. Lilac's troubles first started out as a means of distraction while our son spent four months in the NICU, but it soon turned into a fascinating undertaking that I could not stop thinking about.
I am honored to announce the release of my debut novel, Disenchanted. I cannot wait to take you on this whimsical woodland adventure through Brocéliande with Lilac, her morally ambiguous counterpart, and the Fairfolk... we shan’t dare forget them.
I'm currently working on the next adventure—or, perhaps continued travesty—in Lilac and Garin's Brocéliande journey.
Subscribe at the bottom of this page for updates, thank you endlessly for your readership and support.
In the perilous beauty of silence and menacing shade,
Thou art set on the shores of the sea down the haze
of horizons untravelled, unscanned.
Untroubled, untouched with the woes of this world
are the moon-marshalled hosts that invade
Only at dusk, when lavender clouds in the orient twilight disband,
Vanishing where all the blue afternoon they have drifted in solemn parade,
Sometimes a whisper comes down on the wind from the valleys of Fairyland—
Sometimes an echo most mournful and faint like the horn of a huntsman strayed,
Faint and forlorn, half drowned in the murmur of foliage fitfully fanned,
Breathes in a burden of nameless regret till I startle,
disturbed and affrayed: